


My Neck (the feeling of your soft lips)

by Fanfaire



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Miscommunication, a regular Tuesday night at the haus basically, breath play, choaking, dex and nursey being cockblocking assholes, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:51:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfaire/pseuds/Fanfaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitty didn't realize he had a thing for people breathing on his neck until Jack Zimmerman came along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Neck (the feeling of your soft lips)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my amazing betas angels-and-anxiety & chatosaantana. Yall keep me young.

 

The first time it happens, Bitty is not prepared. 

He’s baking, of course. It’s exam season, so he’s tired, and stressed and needs to relax a little, so he puts his efforts into making study munchies for the Haus: a cherry pie, three batches of cookies (chocolate chip, peanut butter, and white chocolate with hazelnuts) and a couple of butter tarts. He’s just started working on the second batch of tarts, lost in the motions of filling the tins to the sound of Beyonce’s  _ formation _ , when he feels a breath on the back of his neck. Hot and even and–

 

He spins, looking up to find Jack hovering, with one hand raised, as if to tap him on the shoulder. Startled, confused, and flustered, Bitty rips the headphones from his ears, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “What the hell, Jack?” 

 

The taller man shifts, stepping back slightly and giving Bitty a sliver of space. 

“Sorry, Bittle,” he says, lowering his hand and shoving both of them into the pockets of his jeans. “I tried calling your name. You couldn’t hear me, so I was going to tap you on your shoulder, and then…” 

 

Bitty lets some of the tension melt from his shoulders, relaxing his stance now that he knows he isn’t about to be, like, murdered or something. He glances around, really taking in his surroundings for a moment; the kitchen is a mess, flour and pie filling everywhere. Bitty himself is covered from head to toe, and even Jack has a smudge of the white powder on his cheek. Bitty tries to ignore it, but he wonders how it got there. 

“It’s fine,” he breathes, finally shifting his eyes back to meet Jack’s blue ones. “What’s up?” 

 

Jack leans against the counter, realizing too late that his entire side is doomed to be coated with flour because of it. “I couldn’t sleep, and I heard you down here baking so…” he trails off, seeming unsure of why he’d come down. He shrugs. “It’s like three in the morning, Bittle, why are you still down here?” 

 

Bitty wraps his arms around himself, eyes shifting to the clock on the stove. Jack is right, it’s quarter after three. He thanks God, and whoever else, that he doesn’t have an exam the next day. 

“Jesus,” he sighs. “I didn’t even notice the time. I guess you could say I was a little stressed.”  He realizes as he says it that it’s not even a quick excuse, but the truth. 

 

Jack nods. “You should go up to bed,” he says,  half of a smile coming to his lips. “I’ll help you clean up.” Bitty grins back, thanking him as he starts putting his half finished tarts into tupperware. He thinks back to when he’d been working on them, when Jack had been behind him. His breath on Bitty’s neck, though startling at first, had actually been… kind of nice. He feels a slight warmth spreading across his cheeks thinking about it, and quickly pushes it out of his mind. It was nothing. It was just air. 

 

(/) 

 

The second time it happens, they’re on a roadie. It’s really not that far, only a few hours from home, so the team doesn’t take a hotel. Instead, the boys pile into the bus, freshly showered after the incredibly close game they’d just lost. All of them are exhausted, having worked their asses off on the ice and in practice for the past few days. They’d brought in new plays, and went into it with high hopes and a good energy. But it hadn’t been enough. The other team had been just as prepared, and managed to pull the win right at the end. 

 

Bitty is first to get on the bus, Jack following right behind him.  He collapses into a seat close to the back, and he’s glad when Jack chooses to sit right next to him, instead of choosing one of the tons of empty rows. 

 

Within minutes of departing, Bitty has pulled his thick, Samwell-red blanket from his carry on and spread it across the both of them, not even bothering to ask Jack if he wanted to share. Jack doesn’t seem to mind, pushing the armrest separating them up and out of the way, then scooting a tiny fraction closer. There are no words exchanged, but the two of them (and most of the team, for that matter) are out before the bus makes it to the highway. 

 

–

Bitty wakes up in the dark, the bus still moving across the blackened highway, about two hours later. The first thing he registers is the starry sky view he has from the window to his right. The second is the hot breath steadily blowing against the juncture of his neck and shoulder. Bitty physically shivers, letting his bleary eyes flutter closed again for a minute. The breath is so warm, so nice, and yet it sends a zing of electricity into him as well. It makes him feel like a humid sky right before a lighting storm. Charged, but serene. 

 

He feels a body pressed directly against his side, and a head resting next to his, and things come back. Jack, the roadie, silently cuddling up to sleep under the Samwell blanket. This is Jack’s breath against his neck. Bitty imagines for a moment what his lips would feel like there, too. What would it feel like to have Jack do this on purpose? To breath heavily against him there in a… much less innocent context. 

 

He tells himself that doesn’t turn him on, but who is he kidding, really? God, this is  _ Jack _ . One of his best friends, one of his team mates. He needs to stop. Internally shaking himself, Bitty takes a deep breath and then shifts so that Jack’s forehead slips down to Bitty’s shoulder. He tries to do so gently, so as to not wake him up, and he feels proud when he succeeds. Jack’s mouth is no longer anywhere near Bitty’s throat, which is  probably definitely for the best. Or at least that’s what he tells himself. 

 

(/) 

 

The third time, Bitty really brings it upon himself. The tv is on in the Haus living room, with Shitty, Holster, and Jack piled on the sofa in front of it. As Bitty enters the room, he recognizes the sound of the new Star Wars movie playing and, though he isn’t the biggest Star Wars fan, he’s always up for cuddling with the squad, no matter the movie. 

 

He moves around to the front of the sofa and unceremoniously flops across the three laps taking up all the cushion space. Jack makes an “uhf” sound as he takes most of Bitty’s weight. Bitty tries his best to adjust, and feels his cheeks warm as Jack’s hands grip his waist, pulling Bitty to sit mostly in his lap, legs sprawling across the other guys. 

 

“Thanks,” he mutters softly, leaning back against Jack’s chest. 

 

He knows he’s testing fate with this. He’s  _ put himself _ in this position– er, well, actually  _ Jack _ had put him in this exact position, but Bitty had started it. Jack’s head isn’t very far from his at all, and with Bitty sitting elevated on Jack’s thighs, Jack’s mouth is undeniably close to his throat. He tries to ignore it, to watch the screen and not think about the hot puffs of air so close to the sensitive spot at the nape of his neck. But truthfully, he can barely concentrate on what’s going on in the movie. 

 

Holster is the first to head upstairs, deciding that he wants to study a bit and before passing out. Fair enough, since it’s a tuesday and he has a test the next day. That leaves Shitty on one side of the couch, and Bitty in Jack’s lap on the other, his feet now dropping into the vacant space Holster leaves. He thinks about shifting off of Jack, into the space to lean against Shitty, but he’s really enjoying the warmth of Jack against him. Bitty especially can’t bring himself to unwrap Jack’s arms from where they had been resting for the last hour, slung around his torso. He closes his eyes, willing himself to stay in control. 

 

Shitty flicks idly through Netflix for about fifteen minutes, unable to decide on anything interesting. Finally, he, too, gets up, stretching and handing Bitty the remote. 

He mutters something about going up to the roof to toke, and maybe call Lardo. He eyes Jack and Bitty as he rounds the couch and heads for the stairs, and leaves them with a “Don’t stay up too late, boys.” 

 

Bitty  _ feels _ Jack’s change in breathing as he smirks. “Yes dad,” he says, before Shitty is disappearing up the stairs, and the two of them are alone. They sit in slightly awkward silence for a while, neither of them wanting to let go of the other, or break the moment, or do anything really. Both of them know what this is, kind of, and yet neither of them are sure of it. 

 

Jack’s arms tighten around Bitty. “Bittle…” His breath, a soft whisper of his name fanning across Bitty’s neck. He closes his eyes, his head tipping back as that electricity charges through him. 

 

Fuck. 

 

“Jack.” Broken, breathy. 

 

Jack’s lips, full and soft, on that weak spot between Bitty’s shoulder and neck. Open mouthed and warm. Bitty feels exposed, vulnerable, and turned the fuck on. He doesn’t care that this is Jack, this is his friend, this is his captain. Bitty’s hands grip Jack’s forearms. Jack shifts underneath him, and Bitty’s breath hitches, feeling him. God. He isn’t going to lie and say that he isn’t getting there himself, but Jack feels…  _ God _ . 

 

His head tips back further, sinking back against Jack’s chest, deeper into his lap, breath hitching and shoulders loosening. 

 

A shouted “ _ Shut the FUCK up _ ,” sounds from the front of the Haus, and seconds later the front door slams. Bitty springs off of Jack, eyes wide. Standing in front of the sofa in the dim light, he can just barely see Jack’s chest rising and falling quickly, his bright eyes blown wide. 

 

Dex storms past the living room, a whirlwind of red hair and anger. Ten tense seconds later, the front door opens and closes again and Nursey scrambles through, racing after Dex. “Dex, fuck, Jesus, wait!” There’s stomping on the stairs, and quick feet following closely behind. 

 

Bitty is conflicted. Completely shattered from the bubble he and Jack had been sucked into, he partly wants to sink back onto Jack’s lap and let him kiss the base of his throat for hours. A more rational part of him (a part of him that the other half deeply resents) knows that they needed to stop. What are they  _ doing _ ? Where had it even come from? 

 

Looking down at Jack again, he watches as his expression starts to close off. He’s less open, less affected and hungry looking. He’s shutting down. Shutting Bitty out. 

_ Well good then _ , Bitty thinks.  _ It’s for the best. He clearly doesn’t really want this. _

 

He adjusts the collar of his tee shirt, where it had been nudged aside for Jack’s lips ( _ good God, Jack’s lips _ ), and heads upstairs without a word. 

 

He doesn’t sleep. He can still feel his pulse point, beating hard at the side of his neck. Right where Jack’s lips had sucked. 

(/) 

 

They don’t talk for three days. It’s awkward, and tense and Bitty  _ really _ hates it. He throws himself into baking, into studying, into hockey. He doesn’t meet Jack’s eyes so he doesn’t know if Jack tries to meet his. He just can’t bring himself to confront their… whatever it was. But at the same time, he can’t bring himself to act like it didn’t happen either. So he bakes and he hides in his room and he watches Jack’s skates and tape instead of  _ him _ . He tries to avoid passing to Jack whenever possible, just so he doesn’t have to try and communicate with him. He knows it’s petty and kind of sad, but he doesn’t know what the alternative is. 

 

Lardo tries really hard to talk some sense into them, separately. Beggs Bitty to make up with Jack – She doesn’t know what happened but she knows it’s tearing the group dynamic to shambles, and “God you two can’t be like this for our game on Saturday!” – but Bitty shrugs off whatever she says. Two nights after the incident, Bitty overhears Jack (quite loudly) telling Shitty to “Fuck off about it already,” and he realizes Lardo must have recruited Shitty to help talk some sense into Jack. “He doesn’t want to talk to me,” is the last thing he hears from across the hall before he pops his earbuds in. It makes Bitty feel like shit, but he doesn’t know what else to do. 

 

The game comes, and Bitty resolves to  _ try _ and play fair. He’ll try and set whatever this is aside for the team. And he does. 

 

The boys play well. They all skate hard, and through Jack seems a little thrown off by it, he and Bitty actually manage to cooperate. By the final two minutes of the game, Bitty’s legs burn from playing so hard, and his stick wrist could use a break, but he doesn’t stop playing like his life depends on it. He somewhat knows that part of this is him channelling his anger and frustration and confusion into this, but whatever. He’s doing well. With a minute to spare, Bitty gets the puck, and is over the second blue line before anyone notices. Though he had the lead, the other team’s defence catches up fast, and before he knows it Bitty is spinning, keeping control of the puck, and dodging what could have been a nasty check. When he get’s out of it, he finds himself blocked from the net by another defenceman, and he curses under his breath. The clock reads thirty seconds as he makes the split decision to pass backwards to Jack, who is farther behind, but not occupied. 

 

The pass sticks, and Bitty grins as he hears the sound of the puck hitting Jack’s tape. He doesn’t actually see the shot, the defencemen still blocking, but the buzzer sounds and Bitty is skating towards Jack. He doesn’t even think as he launches himself into Jack’s outstretched arms, laughing as they spin. Bitty can see over the top of Jack’s head, and the rest of the team is eagerly skating towards them to join the hug. 

 

Time seems to slow as Bitty feels the hot rush of air, quickly chilled by the coolness of the rink, rush right over his exposed throat.  _ Jesus _ . His breath hitches and his legs grip onto Jack tighter, memories of that night bombarding him. Holding back a groan, Bitty, allows himself to slide down until he’s face to face with Jack, legs still firmly around his (slightly bulky due to his gear) middle. “Bitts.” Jack says. 

 

“Fuck.” Bitty says. 

 

Ransom reaches them first, flinging his arms around them. Shitty is next, followed by the rest of the team. Even though the boys cling to them in what is quickly becoming a very tight group hug, Bitty doesn’t take his eyes from Jack’s. 

 

(/) 

 

Both Jack and Bitty get a little drunk that night. Jack would have normally slipped up to his room long ago, but that last second goal was a beaut, and not one member of the team will let it go for long enough to let him slip away. Bitty would be fine with this, because it would normally mean the attention was  _ off _ him, allowing him to leave instead. That was not the case at this party. When someone isn’t talking about Jack’s goal, they’re talking about Bitty’s assist. They’re talking about how “He had a break away man, he was on fire, and then those d-men came the fuck out of nowhere and Bitty’s just like  _ lol you thought! _ ” (Ransom). Bitty feels proud of the assist, but really embarrassed. Especially because Jack won’t stop  _ looking _ at him, and everyone is trying to push the two of them together. 

 

Shitty says: “Boys, let me get you some drinks,” and they both have drinks in their hands. 

Lardo says: “Good game boys, glad you’re on the same page again” and they both pointedly look away from each other. 

Holtz says: “You both deserve to  _ score _ tonight, go get em.” and they both flush, deep red. 

 

By the time either of them is able to slip away, everyone is hammered, and so are they. Bitty manages to get up to his room first, only after being plied with more alcohol than he had originally planned on consuming. 

Jack makes his way up a few minutes later, feeling more than tipsy. He regrets letting the boys talk him into this, yes, but on the other hand it feels nice to let loose. 

 

Bitty, sitting with his back against his door, hears Jack open his. He hears the hesitant foot step as Jack thinks about disappearing into the room and sleeping off the tequila, he hears the squeak of floorboards as he changes his mind. The knock on Bitty’s door is still surprising, and kind of jarring. 

 

“What is it?” He asks, not moving. 

 

“It’s Jack.” 

“I believe I said what, not  _ whom _ .”

 

“Bitty please.” 

He pictures Jack on the other side of that door, one arm above his head as he rests it and his forehead on the wood. His voice is pleading. 

 

Bitty sighs and hauls himself up, stumbling a little bit. He gets the door, letting it fall open and not even looking at Jack before retreating to his bed. He feels like a douche again. He registers Jack stepping inside, closing the door and locking it. Coming to sit at the foot of Bitty’s bed, looking at him desperately. “Bits.” 

 

Bitty looks up, finally allowing himself to make eye contact with Jack’s shining baby blues. “Jack.” and then “I’m sorry I’ve been a piece of shit.” 

 

Jack’s eyes go wide, his mouth dropping open. Bitty remembers that mouth on him. Remembers not wanting it to leave him. Remembers how far they might have gone had they not been interrupted. Why did he feel so angry, so petty? Why did he feel so exposed? Jack hadn’t done anything Bitty had told him not to.  “Bits no-” 

 

“Jack, I was an asshole. I don’t know why I’ve been treating you like I have but, I’m sorry.”

 

“I’m sorry I made you feel so, uncomfortable. So badly that you shut me out, I’m,” Jack put his head in his hands. “God Bittle I shouldn’t have tried it, I just thought you were into it but I must have read the signals wrong and-” 

 

Bitty watches as Jack falls apart in front of him, his expression crumpling, clearly feeling awful and upset. Without thinking twice Bitty is crawling across the bed and wrapping his arms tight around the taller man. “God no. Jack, no. I only shut you out because I thought that  _ you _ weren’t into it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I didn’t want to deal with it and I was-” 

 

Jack’s arms pull Bitty into his lap, and before Bitty can get out another word Jack is kissing him, soft and sweet and apologetic. Though he appreciates the sweetness, Bitty is shifting to change the angle, to get one leg on each side of Jack’s thighs, to sit up a little, so that Jack’s mouth meets his jaw, meets his neck, meets his pulse point. The kiss turns less sweet, and more desperate. Bitty’s hands are in Jack’s hair as he trails hot, open mouthed kisses down Bitty’s throat. He stops several times to suck marks into the exposed skin, and then gently blow over them, leaving Bitty groaning and shifting his hips. 

 

Jack’s hands grip Bitty’s hips and pull him down, flush with his own hips. Bitty throws his head back as he feel’s Jack, hard against him, even through all of their clothes. “God Bitty.” Jack whispers at the sounds of Bitty’s groans. 

 

Bitty gets his hands under Jack’s Samwell tee, and he shivers as he feels the muscles of Jack’s stomach shift under his touch. He pulls the tee shirt up and off before connecting their mouths again. This kiss is wet and messy and intense and Bitty can’t help but rock against Jack’s hardon and fuck he doesn’t care if they’re both wearing two layers of clothes, he’s going to lose it soon. Jack follows Bitty’s lead and rips his shirt up, breaking the kiss for only a moment before pulling Bitty back in. 

 

Taking Jack’s dominant hand from Bitty’s waist, Bitty guides Jack’s fingers to his throat, moaning in satisfaction at just the touch of Jack’s hand to his windpipe. Jack pulls back, eyes wider than Bitty has ever seen them. “Seriously?” He asks, his voice full of need and lust and god Bitty wished he sounded like that all the time. He nods, covering the hand with his own, urging Jack’s fingers to tighten. 

 

Jack pulls his hand away, setting it on the side of Bitty’s face and looking him directly in the eyes. “Too much, tap out. Don’t like it,  _ tap out _ , Bitty if anything is the tiniest bit wrong or off you fucking tap out. Say okay.” 

 

“Yesyesokaypleaseyes.” Bitty lets out as he pulls Jack’s hand back where he wants it, fitting it around his throat. Jack brings their mouths together again, kissing Bitty deeply before pulling back. Bitty starts to grind his hips down again, and it’s  _ really _ not going to be long before Bitty comes. He needs this. Rutting his hips against Jack, Bitty moans in delight as Jack’s fingers start to tighten. They’re still very loose, but the pressure still cuts through Bitty like a knife. “F-f-fuck, fuck,” he lets out, whimpering slightly at the influx of pleasure. “Tighter J-Jack  _ tighter _ .” Jack obliges, kissing Bitty’s jaw and cheek and ear in the process. Bitty is moaning and rocking and circling his hips, and he can feel Jack pushing right back up against him, thick groans falling from his mouth too. Jack’s unoccupied arm is wrapped around Bitty’s back, holding him tightly. 

 

“ _ So close, baby _ ,” Jack says. Bitty barely hears him, starting to tip over that edge as he starts bouncing in Jack’s lap. Jack lets out a loud groan, his hips bucking up at the change in pressure, and Bitty whines as it causes Jack’s grip on his throat to tighten. “Come on Bitty, come for me, come on,” Jack encourages. And Bitty is there, tears leaking from his eyes as he comes hard, spurting thickly in his pants, not even caring that he’s ruining them. He rides out the high, his cheeks wet and his mind numb, and then he shifts back. 

 

Jack’s hand drops from his throat, and Bitty sucks in a greedy lungful of air as his fingers fumble with Jack’s fly. Jack is groaning and shaking and by the time Bitty gets a hand around his cock, it only takes a couple of quick, messy jerks for Jack to lose it, come coating Bitty’s hand, and both of their stomachs. Bitty keeps eye contact with Jack as he cleans up the mess on his hand with his tongue, grinning when he’s finished. With his other hand, he pushes against Jack’s chest until he’s laying back, and then follows him down, falling asleep on his chest as soon as he’s shucked off his gross shorts.  

 

Jack’s arms go around Bitty, unable (and unwilling) to move out from beneath him, even if it’s to clean up. 

 

(/) 

Bitty wakes up feeling really sticky and really warm. It’s not the most pleasant thing, but he’s able to ignore it and focus on the more important realization at hand: there are arms wrapped around him. There’s a body in his bed, wrapped around his. Jack. 

Relaxing, he sinks back against Jack’s chest, letting go of the tension that had built during his momentary panic. He remembers the night before, making up with Jack, and everything that had followed.  _ Jack gripping his hips, Jack kissing him _ ,  _ Jack  _ choking _ him _ . His breathing quickens as he sees images of the night, of them, behind his eyelids. 

 

Jack’s arm tightens subtly around Bitty’s waist, as if awoken by Bitty’s miniscule movements. His head shifts on the pillow until his lips are pressed against the back of Bitty’s neck, and Bitty shivers. “Good morning,” Jack whispers, breath ghosting over the spot he’d just kissed. Bitty can’t help but love the feeling. He doesn’t know what it is about his neck that’s so sensitive, but it’s apparently a weakness when it comes to Jack getting close to it. 

 

Bitty’s hand slides to cover Jack’s, squeezing gently. “Mmm, morning.” He’s never felt this relaxed, this calm. Sure he’s confused about the night before, and what’s exactly happening between the two of them. But at that moment it doesn’t matter. Jack is wrapped around him and that’s all that matters. 

 

His world spins as Jack begins peppering kisses across the back and side of Bitty’s neck, down his shoulder. His breathing hitches when the light kisses turn more intense, until Jack is sucking hickies into Bitty’s sensitive skin. Bitty writhes against Jack’s body, unable to escape the onslaught and not wanting to anyway. He feels himself become more and more turned on, trapped between Jack’s arm and his firm body. The hand currently holding Bitty to Jack slides downwards, and Bitty moans as it wraps around his cock, tugging firmly. “ _ Jack _ .”

He squirms, pushing his ass back against Jack’s growing length. “ _ Bitty _ ,” Jack responds with a soft groan into the juncture of Bitty’s neck and shoulder. 

 

They stay like that for a long time, just moving against each other, before Jack finally relents and moves back the slightest bit. His hand snakes between them, spreading Bitty’s cheeks. Bitty rolls onto his stomach to give Jack more room, and Jack wastes no time. “Lube?” he asks quickly, and gets to work prepping him after Bitty points to his nightstand. 

 

The first press of Jack into Bitty is tight, and slick and hot. Bitty can’t hold back a high whine as Jack’s breaths come out quick and hot against the back of his neck. “Fuck. Bitty,  _ jesus _ .”

 

Bitty pushes back against him, needy for more. They hadn’t gotten this far last night, so caught up in the newness and the friction and the pressure and the kissing. And the choking. “Jack, please,” Bitty beggs. “Can you?” He’s glad Jack understands what he’s asking for, because he doesn’t think he has the focus to explain it right now. Jack’s hand slides up around Bitty’s throat, and Bitty lets his eyes flutter closed in pleasure. “Yeah, yeah.” 

 

Jack’s fingers tighten as he thrusts deeper into Bitty, pulling back and doing so again. “Bitty  _ fuck _ .”  Bitty can barely breathe, and it has nothing to do with the strong hand wrapped around his windpipe. Jack’s thrusts are hitting him exactly where he wants it every time, and he’s not sure if he’s even going to last much longer. He swings a hand back and grips Jack’s ass, squeezing. He comes as Jack groans hotly into his neck. Jack doesn’t take long afterwards, the tightness of Bitty contracting around him sending him over the edge.  They ride out their ograsms together, both high from the feeling. 

 

It takes them a few minutes to catch their breaths. When they finally do, Bitty turns to face Jack, looking him in the eyes as he smiles. Jack leans down to plant a kiss on his lips, chaste at first. “That was nice to wake up to,” Bitty mutters against Jack’s lips, and Jack chuckles softly. He deepens the kiss again, and Bitty’s arm reaches around his middle, pulling the taller man flush against him. 

 

He doesn’t know how long they’d been kissing for, but Bitty eventually pulls back, resting his forehead gently against Jack’s. “I love this, okay, I do,” he starts, sighing in satisfaction. “But I feel really,  _ really _ gross. Can we shower?” 

 

Jack simply smiles and nods, pressing another kiss to Bitty’s parted lips before pulling himself out of the bed, extending his hand to pull Bitty out as well. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this :) feel free to come yell about gay hockey boys on tumblr @jackzimmerbitts


End file.
